In the Past
by K.Holtzman
Summary: Bobby's in Milwaukee, broken and on a mission. Why? He's not telling. But no one comes to the Fonz's town without him knowing why and you can bet he's going to find out. Especially when it's a cowboy from the past. "I can't be done Bobby. Not if you're going to keep coming back. You weren't supposed to come back."
1. Chapter 1

_**Random idea this one. I guess because I love Bobby and Fonz so much. Just go with it okay? And the timeline is all over the place in this as well. Same happenings on Dallas 2012 but Bobby's maybe in his 30's. So I just changed his age. Fonz is around the same I suppose maybe a bit younger.**_

In his younger days, Bobby would have pounced on the loud-mouthed fool in an instant. Would've given him a few good punches and one too many kicks to remember him by. He also easily could've gone too far and seriously hurt the man. Still, in his younger days, it would've happened in an instant, he wouldn't have cared, and there'd be no hesitation.

Age has come with experience though. Now he's all too familiar with the consequences of being hot-headed; all too acquainted with the way his mind becomes a prison filled with the voices of ghosts and demons that bare down on him with guilt, shame, and humiliation- a parallel to the physical prison he'd be held in.

Bobby doesn't have the same confidence he once held either. He used to be so sure of himself; sure everything he did was right. But in light of recent events, he's seen how things that seem right can be dead wrong and vice-versa. It's made him question past decisions, always wondering if the choice he made was the right one. It's a matter many people deal with, but to him it was a foreign concept until now, and it's quite a shocking- and humbling- realization.

And maybe that's why now he just stands there as the fool lays into him with insults carried on hot, vulgar breath, formed by a whiskey soaked mind. Even as the crowd gathers around them, Bobby doesn't move an inch, doesn't flinch.

His dark eyes search the faces of the crowd, all blank slates to him, none of them familiar. They all share the same hazy excitement though, egging on this fight between him and the inebriated fellow he doesn't even know the first name of. How many times did he fight in the past for the cheers of the crowd? How many times were actually because he needed to fight, because things needed to be done? And how many times did he let his overzealous-always-eager-to-please-insecure-attent ion-junkie attitude push things too far. Push things so freaking far he couldn't even see where it was, where it started, or what the hell was even going on. How much of all that was just to prove something?

Suddenly the sound of the crowd becomes distant- muted almost- as it's overpowered by a loud whine; A ringing in his ears as he falls backwards, recoiling from the straight jab to his jaw. _Didn't think he was that coordinated_, Bobby quirks his eyebrow as he muses that over from his place on the ground.

The enemy drags Bobby up by his collar, crumpling the well-ironed fabric. He keeps a tight hold with one hand as he delivers punch after punch to Bobby's gut. Bobby swallows hard, the pain's as distant as the crowd, in his mind he's already figured five ways to put this guy flat on his back- figures them out, but he has no intention of using them.

"That the best you got?" The man tosses him away like trash, obviously annoyed with the lack of a fight. Bobby's got enough sense to stay on his feet, and he easily recovers- regaining his footing. He can't help the indignation he feels at the other man's words though. The fact the stupid drunk could possibly think this was the extent of his skills was beyond insulting, infuriating even, almost enough to crumble his resolve of staying nonviolent- but still, it's an almost. Instead Bobby keeps his lips sealed; his feet steady, and works to keep his pride in another place.

"Keepin' quiet eh? Fucking pretentious prick." The drunk sneers at him, eyes buried beneath the caterpillar eyebrows.

"That's quite the alliteration you have there, 'pretentious prick'." Technically it's not an insult, just a statement of truth. Bobby knows it will be taken for the former though, and while that is what he was intending, part of him chastises him for provoking the other man, for giving him a reason to fight. It's this side of him that's acquired quite a huge mouth lately and- regrettably- rightfully so.

"Oh you think that's funny?" Another snarl and Bobby can feel the grin he didn't even know he had slip off his face.

The man charges him, channeling the most powerful inner bull Bobby's ever seen and when the man tackles him to the ground it feels as though a truck hit him and then decided to park on his chest. Locking eyes with the drunk Bobby can see, even through the haze of alcohol, the same anger and vigor he used to brawl with- the same hunger for it. It's what sends his mind into another plane and causes his body to go limp beneath the other man as he pounds on Bobby like a drum with fists the size of barrels.

The fact that other people have that same need for a fight kind of scares him. He's familiar with the extent of how bad things got in his own life, his own fights. And he's got a fairly good, explicit, clue of how things could have been had he not managed to slow it down a bit and remove himself from even the prospect of such occurrences. It's apparent however, that not everyone feels the same repulsion to fighting, or at least have yet to experience the harsh learning curve he did.

But mostly it just serves as a reminder, a reminder of how screwed up things are and how he did nothing about it. Ann's imprisonment- his fault. J.R.'s death- his fault. Christopher and John Ross continuing the very feud he swore to end - his fault. Let's not even add in the fact that Harris Ryland and Cliff Barnes are now teaming up to destroy everything the Ewings are, will be, and ever have been yet he's here in Milwaukee chasing old flames.

_Doing great as head of the family aren't you Bobby_. It's a bitter thought, one accompanied by a bitter, sharp copper taste in his mouth. His mind comes back to the fight at the thought of blood, just in time to see the gorilla being pulled off of him by a couple of leather wearing silhouettes.

His head is pounding, and though the drunk is gone Bobby still feels as though there's a truck on his chest, crushing him. He feels emotionally crushed as well. The long nights are finally catching up to him, as are the emotional trials of the past few weeks. He never dealt with any of his anger over the things with Ann, nor did he ever really grieve. He couldn't. Such emotions were pushed aside, seen as trivial in the face of the great challenges the family was facing- that he was responsible for getting them through.

Though now, as he slips into unconsciousness with someone's hands pressed against the sides of his face, Bobby wonders if maybe he should've taken the time to reflect and grieve and deal with things. _Too late now..._


	2. Chapter 2

Milwaukee is his stomping ground, he knows everything about it. If it's important it doesn't escape his view or attention, if it's something small it may slip under his thumb but that's because he let it, because it didn't concern him and he wasn't concerned with it. And even just the mild, maybe new, happenings are under his purview, even if he doesn't make a note of it.

Ewing Oil however, is something small; it's just one of the many mild new happenings to come to his town. But Bobby Ewing definitely concerns him, and definitely has grabbed his attention.

To everyone else, life went on as normal, nothing had changed. But for Fonz, before he even knew the news, there was a change in the air; just a slight change in temperature, just a tad hotter. Through his connections (and the fact that gossip traveled fast in a small town) Fonz learned quickly who was coming to town and why they were there. But to be honest he only knew why Ewing Oil was here. Why Bobby was here- he didn't know. But he was going to find out or he wasn't Arthur Fonzarelli.

Making his way into Ewing Oil's temporary headquarters was easy enough. No amount of security presents a problem for the Fonz, especially when the key player to getting into the higher offices is a member of the opposite sex.

Bobby was nowhere to be found though; all the workers would say is that he went _out_. And really that's no help at all.

"Out where?" Fonz pressed, keeping his voice level despite his growing irritation. The lead assistant or secretary or whatever she was had been very helpful in getting him into Bobby's makeshift office. Getting him info on where the businessman was now though, was an entirely different matter. The woman- _Miranda_, Fonz reminded himself- was far too enthralled with him.

"He didn't specify, just left." Miranda whispers the response almost like it's a secret she's not suppose to tell. Her breath is hot against his cheek, her mouth so close to his and the lack of personal space makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. The assistant's lips ghost over his and Fonzie can feel the heat rising in his face. Her lips continue a path down his neck, always a hair of space between them and Fonz lets a shiver pass through him sending the woman back a bit.

He doesn't have time for this, not when Bobby's in town- somewhere. Not when his mind is filled with images of Bobby, images and memories and smells and a life once lived all rolling inside his head like a movie reel.

Fonz rests his hands on Miranda's shoulders, keeping her a safe, respectable distance away. "Did he say anything, anything at all?"

Miranda's lips push into a pout, disappointed with Fonz not accepting her advances. Fonz can't help smiling, it's a cute look on her, and he can appreciate that.

The smile is accompanied by serious eyes though and maybe that's what finally convinces Miranda to give up on wooing the leather-clad legend. "He was muttering as he went out. Something about a bar, a Domino's or DiMaggio or-"

"DeMario's."

"Yeah, yeah. Didn't say much else though. Just kept repeating 'DeMario's. DeMario's. DeMario's.' Like it was some kinda prayer." _Least I got something,_ Fonz thought. This was the only lead he had and he had to find Bobby as soon as possible. There was no way he was going to let Bobby prance around Milwaukee without at least seeing him once.

"Thank you. Really. And," Fonz stepped in close to Miranda, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear with his hand. He pressed a soft kiss to her cheek, hovering by her ear for a few seconds. "Maybe another time."

"Maybe Fonzarelli."

"Aaaay." He liked the sound of that.

Fonz watched Miranda back away from him slowly, throwing him a wink before sashaying out of the office.

Fonz turned and finished his inspection of the place. It was plain, not many personal touches, though really for a temporary office why would there be? That's not for lack of trying though. _So he's got a wife now... _Fonz held the picture frame in his hands carefully. The woman in the picture looked classy but feisty, she had style and style was usually Bobby's type.

Putting the frame down he gave the office one more glance-over. It was a lot of time to spend in an office but he hadn't seen Bobby in a few years. This office, despite the lack of decoration, held a warm southern feel to it. An air very much similar to the one Bobby had, the one Fonz liked so much.

Fonz took the stairs two at time down to his motorcycle. If he moved now he might be able to catch Bobby at DeMario's and then he could figure out what the cowboy was doing in Milwaukee.


End file.
